


Me and Mia

by Flamefox824



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bulimia, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Purging, Vignette, Vomiting, not sure if this should be marked as shippy or not.. your guess is as good as mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamefox824/pseuds/Flamefox824
Summary: Baz doesn't handle food well. He can't stand the feeling of being full. He knows this isn't healthy, but old habits die hard.A short vent fic, gets a bit dark.Please don't read if you think you might be negatively affected by this, even a little bit; the last thing I want is for my work to hurt someone else.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Me and Mia

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly based on personal experience, and may not reflect how other people with eating disorders think or act.  
> unbetaed (how do you spell that anyway) so if you see any mistakes, let me know and I'll do my best to fix it.  
> I'm also really bad at tagging, so if you think something needs adding or changing, feel free to let me know.

_I shouldn't be doing this._

Baz continued walking.

_I should really stop_

He didn't stop. Couldn't. The food was roiling in his stomach, churning and making him feel bloated and disgusting. He could feel the acid already climbing up his throat.

The door clicked into place, and he turned towards the shower. He murmured a sliencing spell, but didn't quite trust it to hold given his current state of mind. The water came on cold– there was no use wasting hot water if he wasn't going to use it. He turned towards the toilet, and breathed deep before dropping to his knees.

_I can't keep going on like this_

He leaned over, fingers already down his throat and rubbing little circles. He heaved, and the taste of dinner resurfaced. It made him even more nauseous, to think that he had eaten all of that. He redoubled his efforts, thoughts disappearing into thin air.

Soon his sick was reduced to bile, and he still couldn't stop. All he could think about was emptying his stomach, but there was no food left. 

He leaned back, forcing himself to breathe deep and flush the toilet. He shut his eyes, tight, unable to come to terms with this turn of events. He shut the water off.

_Last time was supposed to be the end of this._

He slumped back shakily, trying to ignore the faint taste of rice left in his mouth, and a slight stinging sensation in the back of his throat that he was to out of it to fully comprehend. He looked down on his bile-coated hands, watched them tremble slightly. His eyes zeroed in on a faint trickle of red on one finger. Blood. 

_Shit._

Sure, he knew purging had affects on his health, but he'd gotten away with it thus far. Maybe this would finally be driving factor that made him to stop.

Blood had never looked worse. 

He missed his first times purging, in some twisted way. He had always felt so light after those, like his stomach was hollow and his head were floating. He had always felt so good in the aftermath, even if he still had a faint sense of guilt hanging over his thoughts. 

Now, all he had was a stinging throat, the taste of bile, and a pain in his chest that he really hoped wasn't going to cause any serious health problems. It wasn't like he could go to the nurse about this. He didn't need anyone near his mouth, no matter the circumstances.

_What did you expect? You knew nothing good could come of this._

He couldn't take this anymore. The pain, the thoughts, the guilt hanging over him. It was tearing him apart; he felt tears prick his eyes.

He didn't mind the thought of death– he knew he'd die at Snow's hand at some point. It was a matter of when. He just didn't want to be this miserable his last few years. He wanted some good memories to think back on when shit hit the fan. 

He was lost in thought, staring blankly at the wall, when the door opened. Baz froze, unable to move. This couldn't be happening, it just could not be! All that work to keep it silent, all for nothing. The tears fell faster.

_Oh no. Oh Merlin, please don't let this be real._

Snow stared, gaze flicking from Baz, to the toilet that had yet to be flushed, to his right hand shining with acid, back to Baz' face. His expression morphed from confusion to horror to... worry? Baz had to be reading that wrong.

He didn't know how to fix this, how to pass it off with confidence and denial. He couldn't just say he was sick– Snow had already seen his hand and the unadulterated fear and panic on his face. There was no denying this. 

Snow fell to his knees, scooting closer. Baz curled in on himself, despite his instincts yelling at him to cling to him and never let go. He hugged his hands tightly to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for some kind of hit, or yelling. Something familiar he knew Snow would throw at him. 

_Please just end me now. I can't deal with this any longer. Please._

But no blow ever came. Instead, a calloused hand ever-so-gently swiped away his tears. He leaned into it, despite himself. Snow wrapped his arms around him, and Baz nearly sobbed.

It was too much– he must have passed out and had some strange dream, fueled by nausea and exhaustion. This couldn't be real.

Snow held him tightly, and Baz just leaned against his chest, eyes screwed shut and probably soaking Snow's shirt with tears. Neither seemed to care. 

”It's going to be ok, Baz. You'll make it through this. It's all going to be ok. Trust me.”

And though Baz had his doubts, he let them slip his mind. For now, everything was ok. It had to be. Simon was here.


End file.
